By Helena Yeung, staff reporter
Something beautiful passes by,
fluttered heart, glazing eyes.
Too much judgment in their minds,
to know some perfect butterfly.
Just perfection to the soul,
what makes a person become whole.
You can’t see your beauty as a butterfly,
Your wings are distant from the eyes.
You’re not some perfect butterfly,
You’re too imperfect in your mind.
Can a butterfly see it’s magnificent wings?
Those times you’ve soared,
it meant something.
Find no power to fly so high,
though you’re only just a butterfly.
And in the dark,
can you really see?
Can they really see,
what it means to be free?
Can they really see that fluttering heart,
without knowing who’s falling apart?
And you’re that some perfect butterfly?
With trembling feet, dark sparkling eyes?
What defines me? My little cocoon,
Will I sprout beauty very soon?
And remember, beautiful, it’s not at night,
Where that beauty is anywhere in sight.